Blood and Roses
by Charlene Edwards
Summary: A woman from Dick's past comes to Bludhaven ... bodies drained of blood are being found


Thanks go out to Sarah for beta reading.  
  
Disclaimer: Characters are owned by DC -- not me (curses curses). This story is based upon, and is a sequel to, the Blood Sport story line which ran in Batman # 349, 350, 351 and Detective # 515, 516, 517 in 1982.  
  
Rated R for violence.  
  
Originally written for the halloween contest on Haven- Corridor@yahoogruops.com. I didn't finish in time for the deadline BUT did originally post ON Halloween. Hope you all enjoy. Char :-)  
  
Blood and Roses:  
  
She stepped out of the Bludhaven airport into the cool October night air. She looked up at the moon with a smile on her face. She had never been to this city before, yet she had heard about it's darkness -- the evil that inhabited herein. She could feed on this city, this evil. Yes, she would like Bludhaven, until she had drained it dry and had to move on again.  
  
She was always moving on.  
  
Smiling, she walked into the Bludhaven night, disappearing into the fog.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Nightwing flew over his city on his last patrol of the evening, or morning depending upon your point of view. The night had been slow, only a few routine muggings and a couple of smash and grabs. No assassins or psychotic killers, so it was a good night.  
  
He touched his com link. "Nightwing to Oracle."  
  
"Oracle here," the reply sounded in his ear.  
  
He smiled at the sound of her voice. "I'm getting ready to call it a night. Unless you can tell me a reason not too."  
  
"Sorry. Nothing of interest in the 'Haven or in Gotham for that matter. It's all quiet."  
  
"Too quiet. It worries me. I've got a feeling a storm is brewing."  
  
"Any reason for the feeling?" Barbara asked with concern.  
  
"Nada. Just my gut."  
  
"And what a cute gut it is."  
  
"Very funny. Nightwing out," he said cutting his com link.  
  
Barbara reopened it and purred in his ear, "Of course, if you came to Gotham, I'm sure I could help you find a way to occupy the rest of the night."  
  
A wide grin formed on his face. "How?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"Hooking up computer wires. Oracle out," she giggled as the line between them went dead.  
  
"Oh that's cold," he said as he started his swing toward home.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
She stopped. A sensation surrounded her. She felt a familiarity, a presence. She sniffed the air and lifted her head toward the Bludhaven sky. She smelled his blood long before she saw him swing by. Eyes that weren't use to the night, that couldn't see in the darkness, would never have seen him as he rode his jumplines above the street. But she could see him. His costume was different now, darker. She smiled. She liked it. So her little Robin had grown a darker persona. Perhaps she had helped with that. She would like to hope she had.  
  
He had escaped her once with the help of his father. His father who had killed the Master -- her brother, her lover, her life. She hated his father. But the son still held a sweet place in her memories. His youthful exuberance, his lips on hers, their skin touching, and the taste of his blood. Sweet, warm, powerful blood. Her tongue traced her red lips as she thought of it. Her white teeth growing longer.  
  
"Hey lady," a homeless man approached, "can you spare some change."  
  
She turned to face the man, her eyes glowing red.  
  
The man wanted to run, but found himself frozen in place, mesmerized in her gaze. He couldn't even cry out for help as she sank her fangs into his neck.  
  
It wasn't the blood she wanted. This blood tasted of wine. She never liked mixing wine with blood, it ruins the blood. She looked back into the sky as she discarded the now drained husk of a body. Soon though, she would have the warm, sweet taste of Dick Grayson's blood in her mouth again.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Randolph Van Skiver poured a brandy in his study. He was a wealthy industrialist, although he had long been retired. As he turned to walk to his wing back chair near the fireplace, he thought he heard a creaking sound. He looked around, but saw nothing. Living alone, the elderly gentleman knew that the old Victorian era mansion would sometimes creak and settle. Shaking his head, he moved to his chair and sat down. He picked up his book from the side table and started reading where he had left off.  
  
A cold wind seemed to fill the room. He looked up and noticed the windows were all closed. He saw a fog had settled on the grounds. Van Skiver looked back down and started reading again.  
  
A knock came at the patio door. Who could be at his patio?  
  
The old man stood and shuffled toward the patio door. What he saw startled him. Standing in the fog was a young woman. She seemed to be in her mid twenties. Her long auburn hair fell straight down her back. As he approached the door, he seemed entranced by her hazel eyes. Randolph Van Skiver's mind told him not to open the door. To run away. Yet, as he looked into the young woman's eyes, he found he couldn't look away.  
  
As he opened the glass door, she asked him, "May I come in?" Her voice was soft, low, and sultry. Her accent was southern -- Louisiana bayou country.  
  
His mind screamed at him to slam the door. To run as fast as his eighty-three year old legs could take him. Yet, as if controlled by a will not his own, he heard his voice say, "Yes, please come in."  
  
"Thank you," she said as she entered the residence. She walked to the fireplace. "I have always loved fires. The way the flames dance. Thank you for giving me this house."  
  
"Giving you?" he asked. Then he recoiled in horror as she turned to face him, her hazel eyes now glowing red. He tried to scream, wanted to scream, but no sound emerged from his open lips. Not that anyone would hear him. His head flew back as her fangs sank deep into his neck. A look of unadulterated terror was frozen on his face as she casually dropped his lifeless body to the floor.  
  
She walked around the room, admiring the furnishings. "Yes, I shall like it here. Dick and I will both like it here."  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Dick Grayson rolled out of bed as his alarm clock made its offensive noise. His hand slammed the clock to shut off the noise. He stood up and stretched, then eyed the clock: six-fifteen. What did he do to get the seven a.m. shift? Who did he anger? Well, at least he was used to operating on four hours of sleep. And he could sleep some more after his shift. On his shift, if he was lucky -- which he knew he wouldn't be. Not in Bludhaven. The luckiest part of his day would be if he made it to work on time. If he was late again, he wouldn't have to worry about sleep -- Amy would kill him.  
  
He showered quickly, dressed and headed out his door, he'd pick up breakfast on his shift. He grabbed his bike and roared off toward the station. Looking down at his speedometer he smiled, "Should give myself a ticket, but I'm not on duty yet."  
  
He parked his bike at the station and ran up the steps and into the office.  
  
"Nice of you to join me Rookie," his Sergeant called out to him as she stood between him and his desk, her brown eyes glaring at him.  
  
He smiled at her, his widest and best "Dick Grayson' smile, "Morning, Sarge."  
  
"Let's go," she said flatly as she tossed his ticket book at him and headed toward the exit.  
  
Dick rolled his eyes upward, "This is going to be a great day" he sarcastically thought to himself.  
  
They were called to a disturbance in an alley near Fifth and Bishop streets. Not exactly the high rent district of Bludhaven. As they left their patrol car and headed toward the crowd, a store owner approached them. He was a man in his fifties, short and balding, an apron tied around his waist. He grabbed Dick by the arm and started pulling him toward the alley. He was speaking so fast, Dick thought the man was a speedster.  
  
"I was coming out to throw out the garbage from last night and he was just laying there, his eyes open, and just laying there. He ain't breathing. He's dead."  
  
"Calm down, sir, we'll take care of this," Dick said as he gently pulled away from the man and made his way through the crowd to the body. By the worn and holey clothes, there was no mistaking that the man was homeless. It was probably just a natural death, liver or heart disease, Dick was thinking to himself. He checked for a pulse and changed his mind when he pulled his hand away from the dead man's throat and his fingers were covered in blood.  
  
"Rookie, have you lost your mind!" Amy yelled at him, "You're not wearing gloves. Get the solution from the car and clean that blood off of you now."  
  
Dick heard his partner, but he didn't obey. He turned the man's head ever so slightly, until he saw the puncture wounds in the man's throat. The sight of two small puncture wounds almost caused him to fall over. He had seen those before. A chill ran down his spine at the memories that flooded his mind. Memories he had fought to repress.  
  
"Grayson, I said clean up. Then call for homicide," she barked at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him toward the car. Amy noticed how pale he had suddenly become. She watched him as he slowly walked to the car. Then she hit her forehead with her hand, "Damn, it's the kid's first murder, no wonder he looks like he's seen a ghost."  
  
She walked to where he stood near their patrol car, a slight smile crossed her face, "You know, I got sick and threw up all over my partner on my first homicide," she said sympathetically.  
  
Dick looked at her, comprehending what she thought was wrong with him. She was mistaken, but it was better than explaining the unbelievable.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
After night fell over Bludhaven, the City's vigilant protector returned to the alley he had entered earlier that day. Nightwing knew that the B.P.D. wouldn't have spent much time or resources in searching the crime scene. It was just a homeless man, the majority of the B.P.D. wouldn't even care. But Officer Dick Grayson cared, and so did Nightwing. He looked through the alley, hoping to find some clue, but there wasn't any.  
  
The marks on the man's neck had occupied his thoughts all day. He had seen those marks before. Had worn those marks before. Long before he was Nightwing -- when he was still Robin, squire to the Batman -- he had encountered those marks, and the creature that caused them. A vampire. As a child, he had heard stories from his family -- they were gypsies and they believed in such things. As a young man growing up in Wayne Manor, he had seen movies and TV shows -- vampires weren't real, they were a novelty. But during his one and only semester at Gotham University, he met a woman named Dala in one of his night classes.  
  
He was eighteen. She was older than he was. He thought mid twenties. He had thought wrong. He had thought she loved him. He had been wrong about that as well. Dala dumped him. And it had hurt his pride. One night, after she had rejected him, he did something crazy and stupid and so eighteen -- he followed her home. That's when he discovered her true nature -- she was a vampire. She and her brother, The Monk.  
  
They had captured him. Then Dala had bitten him when he tried to escape. He remembered the things he saw in her house, the things that he felt, and the thing he was becoming.  
  
Nightwing fell against the brick wall as sweat rolled down his face. He closed his eyes in an attempt to erase the memories.  
  
"Come on Grayson, you've got a case to work on," he thought to himself.  
  
Beneath his gauntlets and uniform, he felt the hairs on his arm standing on edge. The hair at the back of his neck did the same. He looked around the alley. He looked into the sky. He felt like he was being watched, but his starlight vision showed nothing, no signs of life -- or the undead.  
  
Nightwing shot his jump line into the sky and flew into the night. But wherever he went, he continued to have that feeling that he was being watched, followed, stalked.  
  
"Hunk Wonder, you've been awfully quiet tonight," Oracle's voice sounded in his ear.  
  
"Just thinking Babs," he replied as he looked around him from the building he sat on.  
  
"I've been tracking your movements, you haven't stayed in any one place too long, busy night?"  
  
"Just patrolling. But I think I'm going to call it an early night and head home. Nightwing out." he said as he closed the channel and shot another jump line and headed for his apartment on Parkthorne Avenue and the safety of home.  
  
He entered his home through a window. Looking behind him, he saw nothing. He shook his head, critical of his overactive imagination, "You're getting yourself all spooked for nothing. You're acting like a kid."  
  
Dick pulled his tunic off and began to change clothes. He pulled on a pair of jeans but before he could put on a T-shirt, the feeling that he was being watched returned stronger than before. Dick looked around, his breathing more rapid than normal. But he couldn't shake the feeling of paranoia. It was beginning to wear on his nerves. He walked to his computer and tapped the keys to connect him to Oracle, "Babs?" he inquired.  
  
"What's up Short Pants, I'm kind of busy," she replied back.  
  
"Were you just watching me here through your video cameras, watching me change?"  
  
Babs looked directly into her computer at him, "Look Grayson, as appealing as that sounds, I'm really busy here, Dinah's in Columbia and she's kind of needy right now. I don't have time to play voyeur to your striptease. Later."  
  
He looked at the blank screen after her abrupt disconnection. Dick walked to the window. He looked out into the black Bludhaven night. His stomach felt queasy and he noticed that his hands were trembling. Dick was scared. He hated admitting it, but he was. And he didn't know why. He felt as if he were being stalked, but there was no evidence of it. But he was afraid. Fear wasn't something that Dick Grayson was used to feeling. But he felt very afraid in the past. Dala had frightened him. Why now? Why was he thinking of her now? There was another explanation, there had to be.  
  
Dick walked back to his computer and, with a trembling hand, hit the keys that would connect him to the Batcave. Batman's face came on the screen.  
  
"Hey." Dick's salutation was unenthusiastic  
  
"What can I help you with?" Batman asked.  
  
"Nothing, just ... just checking in."  
  
Noticing the stammer in Dick's voice, Batman reached up and pulled back his cowl revealing the face of Bruce Wayne. "What's wrong?" Bruce asked.  
  
"Nothing," Dick said with a shrug.  
  
"Don't nothing me, I'm your father remember? -- It's all legal now. Something's wrong. Talk to me."  
  
"It's just ... I dunno."  
  
"And they say I'm the one who has trouble communicating."  
  
"Are you busy?" Dick asked as he averted his eyes from Bruce's.  
  
"Working on a case involving one of the Penguin's operations. Nothing important."  
  
"Could you come here?"  
  
"Need help on a case?"  
  
"No. I'm ... I'm scared," he said as he looked down, embarrassed by the words he had just spoken.  
  
"Have you encountered the Scarecrow? Toxins?"  
  
"I dunno -- I'm just ... I need you."  
  
"I'll be there in thirty minutes. Hang on, and keep your channel open to me. I'll be there as soon as I can."  
  
Dick nodded his head as he tried to smile. He stood and walked around the apartment. He went to his dresser and opened the top drawer. Rummaging through it, he found his grandmother's crucifix. Dick slipped the chain over his head and clutched at the cross. "Hurry Bruce, please hurry.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Dala stood on the roof across the street watching Dick Grayson. With inhumanly acute hearing, she listened to his conversation. She heard the tone of his voice. She heard his heart as it began to beat faster and faster in his chest. Pumping the blood she so longed to taste. She smiled with satisfaction at his fear. Fear was intoxicating.  
  
"So Richard, you feel me near, don't you? That is why you have called your father. He won't save you from me this time," she spoke in a seductive whisper. "Do you remember when you were mine Richard? You will remember tonight. You will remember the power and the intensity." Dala missed her brother's companionship. Dick would make a very fitting replacement. And so appropriate that Batman would lose his son to replace the lover he took from her.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Bruce sat inside the Batmobile as it raced down the Gotham-Bludhaven corridor. His communication channel was open to Dick's apartment, yet neither of them made a sound. His computers were searching for references to Jonathan Crane. He must be in Bludhaven. Dick must have ran into some sort of toxin that was affecting him. Dick didn't just get scared.  
  
As the car rounded the corner near Dick's apartment, Bruce emerged into the night. He had made sure no one was watching when he exited the car. He knew Bruce Wayne couldn't be seen riding in the Batmobile, but he knew with the same certainty that his son needed Bruce Wayne and not Batman tonight. He ran around to the front of the building, sending the car back to the Batcave on autopilot. Bruce took the stairs two at a time as he made his way to Dick's apartment. He started to knock, then decided against it and used the key Dick had given him to let himself in.  
  
"Dick?" he called softly as he entered the dimly lit apartment. Dick emerged from the bathroom, his dark hair falling onto his slightly damp face. Bruce immediately noticed the crucifix around Dick's neck. "What's wrong?"  
  
Dick let out an audible sigh as he moved to his sofa and dropped unsteadily onto it. Bruce joined him. When Dick looked at him, Bruce saw something he hadn't seen in Dick's eyes in years -- fear.  
  
Slowly, Dick began to speak, "There was a homicide. Amy and I were the first officers on the scene. I ... I think it's ... its...a...vampire."  
  
Bruce felt his mouth open as he stared at his son. Vampire? Now Dick's mood made sense. Silently, he sat there as Dick continued.  
  
"I thought about Dala. God, I had tried so hard to forget that! Now I can't think of anything else."  
  
Bruce thought back to his own possession by the vampires, the things he had done, the man he had killed. Marley still haunted his nightmares. He knew he always would. "We'll find the vampire and we'll deal with it," he said resolutely.  
  
"I think it's Dala, Bruce," Dick whispered, "and I think she'll find me."  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Running. He was running. His breath was labored. He had to escape. Had to get away. Fire. There was fire all around him. Flames surrounded and attacked him. The flames weren't the only thing that attacked him. He felt the pricking of his skin as two fangs sank deep into his neck. There was pain and ecstasy at the same moment. The flames were now inside him. He felt his blood being drained, pulled from his veins.  
  
Then he was running again. Reaching the door, he opened it. It was the way out he thought. But it wasn't. Naked bodies tied, upside down, to wooden beams. Their throats punctured and ripped, their blood draining. His breathing was rapid and he closed his eyes against the sight. Then her breath was on his neck, whispering in his ear. He walked near the bodies. Sinking to his knees before the woman's body, he looked at the wound on her neck. His eyes fixated on the trickling red liquid, her slowing pulse.  
  
"Feed," she said seductively, hypnotically. "Feed."  
  
He was repulsed. He was terrified. He was -- ravenous.  
  
His head descended toward the woman's neck, his mouth moving to the gaping wound. Her blood entered his mouth --  
  
"NO!" Dick screamed, jolting awake in his bed, sweat pouring off his body.  
  
Bruce quickly rose from the chair at Dick's bedside where he had been dozing, and went to his son. Dick threw his arms around Bruce's neck as he had done when after childhood nightmares. "I'm here," Bruce reassured Dick, the feeling his son's trembling.  
  
Dick looked out the window. A storm raged outside. The rain was torrential and the thunder exploded. Then lightning flashed illuminating the room for an instant. Dick's breath caught in his throat. Dala was floating at his window. "No!" he screamed, pointing to the window.  
  
Bruce immediately released his son and moved to the window. "What is it Dick? There's no one here."  
  
"I saw ... thought I saw ... God, I'm losing my mind," he said with a sigh as he fell backwards on his bed.  
  
Bruce sat down beside him, laying a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. "Hey, it was just a residual image from your nightmare. You're okay, son." Bruce tucked the covers around Dick. "Go back to sleep."  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Dick awoke after noon. He stared at the clock. Then his brain realized the time. He was late for work. He bolted upright, throwing the covers off. He saw Bruce asleep in the chair next to his bed and smiled.  
  
Bruce stirred at the noise Dick made as he rushed toward his bathroom.  
  
"What are you doing, chum?"  
  
"I'm late," Dick called back into the bedroom. "I'm probably fired, I'm so late. I was suppose to be at the station at seven this morning."  
  
"No," Bruce said calmly.  
  
Dick's stuck his head around the bathroom door, "What?"  
  
"I called the station earlier this morning. Told them you were sick and wouldn't be in the next few days."  
  
"Oh," Dick said quietly. He smiled. "Thanks."  
  
"That's what I'm here for."  
  
"That's not all you're here for," Dick said as he walked over and sat down on his bed across from Bruce. "Thanks for coming last night. I...it wasn't ... easy to call. You understood though. Thanks."  
  
"I know what you're going through," Bruce said.  
  
Dick looked down at his carpet ... he had never realized his carpet was brown. Brown didn't go with anything in the room. Dick scuffed his foot on the carpet. Bruce moved from the chair to the foot of the bed and sat beside his son.  
  
"I do know what you're going through, Dick."  
  
"I guess. No. No you don't. You've never been afraid before Bruce!" Dick said, his voice quavering as he stood and moved across the room.  
  
Bruce stood and walked over to his son, placing his hands on his shoulders. "You don't really believe that, do you? You know I have been. I know what you're going through. Remember, you weren't the only one who was bitten."  
  
"But you didn't turn like I did. I even attacked you."  
  
"Dick, I did turn. You were restrained, you don't remember. I did turn into ... that thing. I even --" he stopped himself as he remembered Marley. He couldn't admit what he did, not to Dick. Especially not to Dick. "Vampires are something that will always haunt us. But we will stop them when we have to. We'll find the vampire in Bludhaven and we'll stop it. Together."  
  
Dick turned to face Bruce and smiled. "Let me get dressed, then we'll start this investigation."  
  
"That's my boy."  
  
While Dick was in the shower, a knock came at his front door. Bruce moved from the kitchen up the short flight of stairs to the door and opened it to find Bridget Clancey standing there, smiling up at him.  
  
"Well, now, I didn't know Dick had family in. How are you Bruce?"  
  
"Fine Bridget, and you?"  
  
"Fine as can be, and about to head off to class. I just wanted to look at that leak Dick's been complaining about lately."  
  
"That would be in the kitchen. I heard the faucet dripping last night," Bruce said as he followed Clancey into the kitchen. "So, how are your classes going? Med school, right?"  
  
"That's right. How'd ya know that?" she asked as she was bending over looking at the faucet.  
  
Bruce gave her a half smile as she looked up at him, "Dick talks about his friends."  
  
"Well, that's good t'know, because he rarely talks about his family. I know you two are family, but I don't know whether you're his brother or cousin or --"  
  
"Father," Bruce said with a smile. "I'm his father."  
  
Bridget Clancey stood erect and looked Bruce directly in the face. "Well, that would never have been what I would have guessed. I hope y'know, you've got yourself a special boy in Dick, there."  
  
"That I do know," Bruce responded as they headed back toward the front door.  
  
"Tell him I'll be back later tonight after my classes and fix this for him."  
  
"I'll let him know. We'll probably be in Gotham, so feel free to let yourself in to fix the faucet. Have a nice day, Bridget."  
  
"He's a nice boy, but he could take lessons from you on how to treat a lady," she said as she walked out the door.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Bruce and Dick descended the stairs into the Batcave. Dick moved toward the huge crays as Bruce picked up the phone. Looking back at his son he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to have Oracle run the search?"  
  
"Yes. I don't want Babs knowing about this. Just us. Just those of us who already know."  
  
Bruce nodded his head in agreement and dialed the number. He listened to the rings as he waited for an answer.  
  
"Brentwood reformatory, prisoner Drake speaking," Tim's voice answered.  
  
Bruce heard the sound of young laughter in the background. It was obvious Tim had visitors in his room. "Tim," Bruce said firmly, his mouth quirking upwards as he could almost see the boy stiffening to attention. "Is Alfred there?"  
  
"Yeah. Yes. Yes sir, he is. Hold on."  
  
It was only a moment before Alfred came on the line. "Yes, Master Bruce?"  
  
"I need you to come home."  
  
"We have already had this discussion," Alfred said curtly.  
  
"No. Not this one. Dick and I need your help. There's a vampire in Bludhaven. We don't want anyone else in on this."  
  
Alfred turned and looked at Tim. Tim's eyes were on him. The boy's friends were continuing with their conversations, but it was obvious that Tim was concerned about the discussion between his partner and Alfred. "I'll be there as soon as I can," Alfred replied.  
  
"What about Father Green, do you still know how to contact him?" Bruce asked.  
  
"I'm afraid Father Green died two years ago. But we have notes, if that is necessary."  
  
"Good, it may be." Bruce hung up the phone and turned toward Dick. "Anything?"  
  
"I'm running a ticket check on passengers using various modes of public transportation into Gotham City or Bludhaven in the past weeks. See if anything matches Dala Dubois. Name or description, not that passenger manifests are going to have any descriptions."  
  
The Batcomputer started beeping. Bruce leaned against the back of Dick's chair as the computer's results came upon the screen. A Darla Dupres had flown into Bludhaven Regional Airport three nights ago from Minneapolis. The name was close enough.  
  
"Run a search on similar homicides in Minneapolis," Bruce suggested.  
  
"Already on it," Dick replied. _______________________________________________________________________  
  
As he was cleaning their dinner trays from the computer console, Alfred asked, "Do you think it wise for both of you to search for the vampire?"  
  
"We work well together. And it's safer. Especially as long as you're here with the formula for the antidote -- just in case."  
  
"I'll keep the channels open to both of you," Alfred stated, then turning to his younger charge said, "And I will keep Miss Oracle from finding about this."  
  
"Thanks Al," Nightwing replied with a smile. "So Big Guy, I think we should check out the morgue first. See how many more bloodless bodies have turned up."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Bridget Clancey was in Dick Grayson's apartment repairing the leaky faucet when a knock sounded at the door. She stood up, dusted off her overalls, and headed for the door. Opening the door she saw the slender auburn haired woman standing before her. The woman had an aristocratic air about her.  
  
"Can I help you?" Clancey asked the young woman standing at the door. She waved at John Law as he left his apartment headed toward the stairs.  
  
The woman stared at her with intense hazel eyes. She didn't seem startled by Bridget's Irish accent as most people were upon first meeting her.  
  
"I am a friend of Richard Grayson's. Is he home?"  
  
"Dick? -- no. He's been out all day. And his Da with him."  
  
The slender woman smiled. Clancey noticed she had large teeth.  
  
"I am an old friend of Richard's. We were in college together. May I come in and leave him a note?"  
  
"Sure, come on in. I was just fixing his kitchen sink. I saw a pen and paper on the table, over there" Clancey said as she turned from the woman and walked back into the apartment. The slender woman followed her, closing and locking the door behind her.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
"Dala's definitely been on the move," Batman said as they drove through the streets of Bludhaven after leaving the morgue. Batman was running a schematic on the Nightbird's computer as Nightwing maneuvered through the traffic. He didn't like the pattern he was seeing.  
  
"Any clues?"  
  
"She knows you're here. I think you're right, she's focusing her attention on you."  
  
"Why do you say that?" Nightwing asked, a tinge of nervousness in his voice. A sound that would have been undetectable to anyone other than Batman.  
  
"With the exception of the first homeless man, the other four victims have been within a ten mile radius of your apartment."  
  
"Zooming in for the kill. It's so nice to be wanted," Nightwing quipped. "But none of this is telling us how to find her."  
  
"I suspect she knows that you are aware she's in town. She wants you. She'll let us know how to find her."  
  
"That's what worries me."  
  
"Let's go back to your apartment and do a little planing of our own."  
  
They entered the building through 'Dr. Fledermaus' apartment and changed back into their civilian clothes. Dick used his surveillance equipment to ensure no one was in any of the halls of the building at the time before they walked out of the apartment. Dick knew Clancey was suppose to fix his sink, and they didn't want Batman and Nightwing entering the apartment just in case she was still there.  
  
As they reached Dick's door, they noticed that it was ajar. Bruce and Dick glanced at each other, then Dick pushed the door open, "Clancey, are you still here?" he called out into the dark apartment. Something didn't feel right. Dick flipped the light switch on. "Oh God!" he gasped as he tried to steady himself with the hand that was on the wall. His other hand went to his stomach as he bent over at the sight before him.  
  
Bruce put two comforting hands on his son's shoulders as he surveyed the carnage around him. Blood was everywhere. Bridget Clancey was everywhere. She had been ripped into pieces. Her dismembered head sat on the coffee table. On the far wall, scrawled in blood -- Clancey's blood -- across Dick's 'Flying Graysons' poster, were the words -- "Soon Richard".  
  
Dala was definitely sending Dick a message.  
  
"Oh God, it's my fault," Dick cried as he fell to his knees, his hands landing in the sticky red fluid pooled on the floor.  
  
"No. It. Is. Not." Bruce said in the Voice. He hated using it on Dick, but he had to. The boy's nerves had been on edge since he had first found out about Dala's return. Now to witness his friend's mauled and dismembered body in his apartment ... kneeling in her blood. Dick had to come around. Had to be on guard. He was in danger. Bruce reached down and pulled Dick upright and moved him into the outer hallway. Bruce pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the police.  
  
"She's gonna pay for this," Dick growled in a soft low voice. "She's going to pay."  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Inspector Mac Arnot walked past the uniformed officers in the apartment buildings third floor hallway. He stopped at the door leading into Officer Richard Grayson's apartment. He watched as police photographers documented the gruesome scene. He turned and saw Dick Grayson sitting at the end of the hallway, his back against the wall. There was another man with him -- it was obvious that this man was comforting Grayson. The man looked somewhat familiar. Arnot thought to himself that there was a resemblance between Grayson and this other man. 'Family?' he wondered as he walked over to them.  
  
"Well Sport, are you collecting dead bodies?"  
  
Dick looked up at him with steely blue eyes, "Go away."  
  
"Listen Sport, there's a murder investigation going on here -- there are many pieces of a dead girl in YOUR apartment," Arnot said pointing his finger in Dick's face. "Who do you think's going down here? Who --" Arnot stopped and looked at the other man, the one who had just grabbed his finger.  
  
"Inspector, is it. I don't believe this attitude of yours is helping the investigation. It is certainly NOT helping my son."  
  
Arnot made a whimpering sound and jerked his hand away from the larger man, eyeing him suspiciously.  
  
"You Grayson's old man? Well, sonny boy here's in a lot of trouble."  
  
Bruce glared down at Inspector Arnot. Standing at his full height and doing his best to intimidate the man before him, Bruce said "My son has been with me since last  
  
night. The only one of us who was alone with Bridget Clancey today was me. Dick was in the shower earlier when she came over about a problem with the kitchen  
  
faucet. Dick and I have spent the day in Gotham"  
  
"So, you're admitting you were both in the apartment with the murder victim?" Arnot said with a wicked grin.  
  
Dick jumped from his chair grabbing Arnot by his coat's lapels and shoved him into the wall, "You sonova..." Dick growled.  
  
Bruce grabbed Dick by the shoulders and pulled him off of Arnot, but not as fast as he could have. "Dick, don't," he cautioned his son.  
  
John Law walked up the steps and into the hallway. The police downstairs had allowed him to come up, but they hadn't told him what had happened. He saw the scene  
  
at the end of the hall and headed toward the three men. "Dick?" Law inquired with concern.  
  
Dick turned to his friend and gently freed himself from Bruce's grasp. He walked over to the older man. "John...it's Clancey. She ... she's ... dead."  
  
"Oh dear Lord," John said as he dropped his paper. "I saw her not an hour ago. Right there in your apartment, Dick, talking to that pretty young girl."  
  
Bruce and Arnot both approached as Dick asked hoarsely, "What girl?"  
  
"The one at your door. I heard her telling Clancey she had went to college with you. Dark red hair, long, and a southern accent."  
  
Dick turned to Bruce, "Dala," he whispered.  
  
Bruce looked at Arnot, "I suppose this should clear up your doubts about me and my son."  
  
"We still have questions for you both." Arnot sneered.  
  
"Later. You want to talk to us, you can contact my attorneys," Bruce said as he moved to Dick taking him by the arm, "Let's go."  
  
"Care to give me a name," Arnot said to their backs.  
  
Turning around and with his best smile, he said, "Bruce Wayne. I'm in Gotham City, look it up."  
  
  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ _______________________________________________  
  
As Bruce and Dick stepped into the night air, the cold wind hit them. It chilled them, almost like the chill in their soul. Bruce gently took the car keys from Dick's hand  
  
and started around to the driver's side of the Nightbird. Dick stood rooted. He wished it was raining. It should be raining.  
  
"Get in," Bruce said softly.  
  
Silently, Dick obeyed.  
  
Once they were both in the car, Bruce drove away from the building. "We were going to do some planing. We can do it mobile."  
  
"She knows, knows we're looking for her. She doesn't care." Dick said emotionlessly.  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm not going to let her get away with this," Dick added, a steely determination in his tone.  
  
"I know that too. We'll find and destroy her. She left a clue for us. I retrieved it from your apartment before the police arrived," Bruce said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a plastic sandwich bag containing a blood stained card.  
  
Dick took the bag and studied the card inside. The paper was old, elegant, a deep ivory color. Engraved printing -- not computer printer output, spelled out the name "Van Skiver". That was it. Nothing else was on the card. No address, no phone number. "What is this? This doesn't tell us anything."  
  
Bruce let out a mock sigh. "The ignorance of youth," he said with a touch of levity. He needed to get Dick's mind off his grief so he could think straight, be on top of his game. "It's a calling card, Dick. It was common social etiquette in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries to leave your card when you called on people. See what you can pull up on the name 'Van Skiver'. And tell Alfred we're heading back, we'll need some special supplies."  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
  
  
Batman and Nightwing silently entered the Van Skiver mansion through an upstairs window. An erie air seemed to fill the too quiet house. Batman headed toward the door of the bedroom they had entered. Carefully, he opened the door and surveyed the hallway. A gloved hand motioned for Nightwing to come forward. Without saying a word, Batman signaled Nightwing to go right as he went left.  
  
Nightwing began searching through the Van Skiver manor house. Striding on the green paisley carpet, he came to mahogany stairs leading to the first floor. He started down the stairs, clinging to the shadows along the wall. As he neared the bottom of the stairs, he leaned against the wall. His breathing was labored, his heart was beating rapidly. He felt nauseous. Why did he feel like this? What was wrong with him?  
  
Taking a deep breath, he moved from the stairway and started toward the library. Then the sickening feeling he had felt seemed to overcome him, to wash over him like a tidal wave. He gripped his stomach. As he did, he felt her sweet breath on his neck. His heart pounded faster in his chest. He seemed frozen in place.  
  
"I've missed you these many years, Richard," she said as her vise like grip seized him by the shoulders. "But I approve of how you've grown." Her left hand moved from his arm and started rubbing his chest. Her fangs sank into the exposed flesh of his neck right above where his costume stopped.  
  
Nightwing's body arched as the sharp fangs punctured his skin. A cry escaped his lips. His head was spinning, his vision clouded over. Dick could feel his blood being drained from him, the pull of it on his system. His mind screamed No! Not again! Yet, at the same time, another part of him seemed to embrace the darkness that was encircling his soul. _______________________________________________________________________  
  
Batman hadn't found anything in the upper part of the house. He headed toward the room he and Nightwing had first entered the home. He reentered the room and saw a familiar figure standing near the window?  
  
"Find anything?" Batman whispered.  
  
"Yes," Nightwing responded without turning around.  
  
"Report ..." he said as he moved closer to Nightwing.  
  
Nightwing turned and stared at Batman. Without a word, he grabbed Batman by the throat and threw him across the room. Batman couldn't keep himself from crashing into the wall. With inhuman speed, Nightwing was over him, choking him. Nightwing's hands were like steel vises. Batman tried to kick Nightwing off but couldn't.  
  
After Batman succumbed to the darkness, Nightwing threw him over his shoulder and jumped from the window into the black Bludhaven night.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
"So, you know what case Bruce and Dick are working on?" Tim asked Barbara as he leaned over her shoulder looking at her monitors.  
  
"No clue. I haven't heard from Dick since yesterday," Barbara replied. "I've tried to reach them. but they have their com links forwarded to the Bat cave and Alfred's being more cryptic than usual. When did he go back to the Manor anyway?" Barbara asked as she looked at the current Boy Wonder. The only thing missing from the boy's costume was his mask. She smiled as she remembered how he had tried to keep her from learning his true identity. She was the all-knowing Oracle, they couldn't keep things from her. They should have figured that out by now.  
  
"Today," Tim replied, then looking at the clock added, "well, yesterday. Bruce called me at school. Al was all cool to him and then changed, said he had to go and took off like a ... well ... you know."  
  
"I know what you mean. Something strange is going on. There was a murder reported at Dick's apartment building earlier this evening, but I haven't been able to find out any more about it."  
  
"Murder? In Dick's building? And you haven't heard anything from them?"  
  
"Nothing, except Alfred said they had checked in and were all right."  
  
"Oh," Tim said as he stood up and started walking around the room, stretching his muscles impatiently.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Batman moaned as he stirred to consciousness. He knew his eyes were opened, he remembered feeling the motion, but the darkness remained the same. Where was he? He wasn't bound, that much he could be thankful for. He was lying down, in a confined space. His legs were twisted up under him. He could feel the tingling sensation of his limbs trying to "go to sleep." His mind, however was fully alert. But his mind was full of worry for Dick. Dala had gotten to him. Had bitten him -- AGAIN. He had become that monster they both had been those many years ago.  
  
He had to find Dick. Had to stop him before he killed -- if he hadn't already. The guilt of a kill -- that's something he did not want his son to share. No. Dick hadn't killed -- not yet. If he had Batman knew he would be dead now. There was still some of Dick Grayson fighting against the monster that sought to posses him body and soul.  
  
Batman pulled his mini-flashlight from his utility belt. Using the light he soon discovered he was in the trunk of a car. The Nightbird he surmised. Pushing against the lid, he knew it was locked. He reached into his utility belt for his torch and started burning through the lock.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
RAP RAP RAP  
  
Barbara and Tim both turned and looked out of her control room. They could see through her living room to the sliding patio doors. Nightwing stood outside the glass doors knocking in a slow rhythm.  
  
"What's he doing?" Tim asked as he started toward the doors shaking his head. He grinned and threw his hand up to Nightwing.  
  
Barbara started to wheel herself out behind Tim when she heard her communicator hail ring. Turning and hitting a button she announced, "Oracle here."  
  
"Barbara," Batman's hoarse voice cried out, "Is Nightwing there?"  
  
"He's outside, Tim's about to --"  
  
"DON'T LET HIM IN!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"DON'T LET HIM IN! It's a matter of life and death ... He's not himself."  
  
Barbara knew Batman, she could tell by his voice that this was serious. "Tim! TIM!" Barbara screamed into the living room.  
  
Tim had almost reached the doors when he turned to look at Barbara. "What? Let me open the doors and let Dick in --"  
  
"No. Batman said NOT to let him in." Barbara rolled into the living room as Nightwing continued to rap at the glass. Silently he glared at them. "Dick," Barbara said, "go away."  
  
"Let me in Babs. I want to see you. I need to see you," Nightwing implored.  
  
"Something's going on Dick, and Batman said not --"  
  
"He's not our boss. Let me in. Tim let me in, bro."  
  
"Babs?" Tim asked looking from Nightwing to Barbara and back again.  
  
"No." Barbara replied, her eyes never leaving Nightwing. She could tell something was wrong. She could tell by his movements, by his voice. And there was something else. Something about him -- scared her. "Tim come away from the door."  
  
"He can just --"  
  
"Tim! Now!"  
  
Tim looked back at Dick with confusion in his eyes, "Bro, I dunno why, but --"  
  
Nightwing lunged at the door, his fists banging into the glass. His mouth opened showing fangs as an animalistic growl escaped his lips.  
  
Tim fell back away from the door. Slowly, he backed up until he stood beside Barbara. His breathing was heavy. That wasn't Dick. That couldn't be Dick. He felt Barbara reach up and take his hand.  
  
"What the -- Babs what's wrong with him? What's happened?"  
  
Barbara Gordon stared wide-eyed at the figure before her. Nightwing -- Dick Grayson -- he was ... NO! That was impossible. They didn't exist! But ... but ... here he was in front of her, like ... this. A ... a vampire. The very idea made her shake her head in disbelief.  
  
Nightwing continued to beat on the window. "I need you Barbara." he begged, "I can offer you eternity. Babs, you and I can fly together forever! I can make you walk again! Let me in, please."  
  
She watched him, unable to look anywhere else. Dick's voice was hypnotic, enticing, seducing. She started to move her chair closer to the window.  
  
Tim jerked his head toward Barbara as he saw her advancing toward the window. He grabbed her chair and turned her toward him. "Stop it Barbara! That's not Dick! Don't listen to it!"  
  
Nightwing, his fangs bared, snarled at Tim's comment.  
  
"NIGHTWING!" Batman yelled from above as he sprung to the balcony from the Clocktower's roof. "Stop."  
  
"Go away, Batman!" the Dark Squire growled at his Knight.  
  
"No. You know better than this. You don't want to do this. Dick! Listen. You're still in there. Fight it!"  
  
"This is who I am now. You don't know the power I have."  
  
"But I do, Richard," Dala crooned as she suddenly appeared behind Batman out of the mists. "Come Richard. Kill Batman and truly become mine."  
  
"I want Barbara," he said as he turned back to look through the glass doors at Babs.  
  
"Kill Batman! NOW! Then you can take the woman and the boy. But only as food, you are mine forever. I will not let the woman stand in my way."  
  
"Nightwing -- Dick -- fight this," Batman urged. " Fight her! You don't want to do this. You don't want to kill," Batman said as he and Nightwing began to circle one another. He knew he had to reach the human part that was left of Dick's vampiric self.  
  
"You don't know what I want," Nightwing growled as he approached Batman. Dala stood on the ledge of the balcony watching the budding fight before her. She smiled wickedly as she watched.  
  
"I do son. You. Do. Not. Want. To. Kill. If you did, you would have killed me in Bludhaven." Batman kept back from Nightwing. He knew he couldn't match Nightwing's enhanced strength.  
  
Nightwing eyed his former mentor. His mind attempted to battle the demon within him.  
  
Batman kept talking to Nightwing, reasoning with him, "Dick. When the Monk turned me, I killed," he began. When he said this Nightwing stopped ... and stood with childlike obedience waiting for Batman to finish speaking. Batman wanted to "I killed. Do you remember a perp named Marley? I drained him after turning. That has haunted me every night since then. I never wanted you to know, but you have to know now. You can't kill, Dick. You CAN fight this."  
  
Nightwing stood there gazing dumbly at Batman. The words washing over him even as the blood lust of the vampire rose within. It was a hunger that needed to feed. Yet, the part of him that remained Dick Grayson fought for control over this body and his soul.  
  
"Kill him!" Dala screamed.  
  
Nightwing looked past Batman to were Dala stood on the building's ledge. He reached up and pulled off his mask, letting it drop to the ground. The glowing red of his eyes now visible in the night. He jumped and lunged, fangs bared, a guttural animal sound escaping his lips.  
  
Batman ducked, but Nightwing flew past him. Nightwing seized Dala and together they fell into the Gotham night. Batman ran to the edge of the building and looked down. His heart was in his throat as he looked over the edge of the building. What he saw sent a chill down his spine. They were fighting -- two vampires fighting -- in the air over Gotham.  
  
Nightwing flew at Dala, connecting his outstretched leg with her face. She was sent spinning backwards. She caught herself as she floated above the surface of the roof of a nearby building. Nightwing didn't stop, didn't give her a respite from their battle. "You killed Clancey.!" he shouted. " She was my friend."  
  
"She was a message, nothing more. You need to embrace your immortality, your power. These mortals are not worthy of your attention. They are our food supply -- nothing more."  
  
"You're wrong Dala. They are worthy of my attention, and my protection. And I will always protect them from you," he replied as he grabbed her and flew off the building with her. "I failed Clancey, but I won't fail anyone else."  
  
Dala growled and fought against Nightwing's viselike grip, but she couldn't free herself from it. Nightwing's eyes were set directly ahead. He used his inhuman strength and dove directly at the gargoyle on the Sandstone Bank Building. They hit the gargoyle with enormous force. Dala's scream was an unholy sound as she was impaled on the gargoyle. The wooden tip of the gargoyle's staff piercing her heart.  
  
Batman watched from the Clocktower's roof, as Dala's body grew limp under Nightwing grip. When Dala and Nightwing had gone over the building's ledge, Batman had ordered Tim to remain inside Barbara's apartment. He opened his communicator to Barbara, "Call Alfred, tell him we're coming home, and that we need him. He'll know what to do." Batman said a silent prayer as he saw Nightwing heading back towards him. It was an erie sight to see Nightwing gliding across the Gotham sky -- no jump lines anywhere. He held his breath as Nightwing settled down on the roof across from him, Dala's body in his arms.  
  
"Help me, Bruce, help me."  
  
Batman moved toward Nightwing and took Dala's body. She was starting to decompose before him. He had to work fast. They needed her blood for the serum to cure Nightwing. He quickly removed the vials and needles from his utility belt and drew the blood from her body. As he stood up to face Nightwing, Dala's body disintegrated into a pile of ash. Batman removed a bottle of Holy Water from his utility belt and sprinkled it throughout the ashes to ensure there would be no further resurrections.  
  
"Let's go home."  
  
"Barbara?" Nightwing implored.  
  
"No. You can see her later. If you see her now, I don't know what you'll do. You're fighting urges that aren't easy to control. You can't guarantee that you can control yourself if you get near her now. Let's go to the Cave. Just you and me."  
  
Nightwing -- Dick Grayson -- looked at Batman, his eyes still glowing red. "Take me home." _______________________________________________________________________  
  
Tim brought Barbara into the Cave. They saw Alfred standing near the computer and walked toward him. "Alfred?" Tim asked.  
  
Alfred looked up at them. His eyes were tired. "He'll be all right, Master Timothy. Master Bruce is with him now in the infirmary."  
  
"Why didn't they tell us about this?" Barbara asked.  
  
"They wished to spare you both from knowing just how dark the night can be. This has been their personal hell. They never wanted either of you to know. And that's how it would have stayed. At least ... until my death."  
  
"Your death?" Tim asked, puzzled at Alfred's strange comment.  
  
"Yes, Master Timothy. If I had predeceased either Master Bruce or Master Dick, you would have learned about Dala and the Monk, about what they did to the Masters years ago. I would have to entrust the secret to someone, and that is you my lad. You, Miss Barbara, were never to know."  
  
"Why Alfred? Why would you have Tim be informed at your death? I mean, it's over, right?"  
  
"Not quite," Alfred admitted with a tired sigh. He sat in Bruce's chair and looked at the two before him. "This must be our secret, our secret that neither Master Bruce nor Master Dick must ever know. Father Green entrusted it to me on an oath. They must never know, for it would destroy them."  
  
Tim and Barbara looked at each other, confusion in their eyes.  
  
Alfred continued, "The serum only keeps the vampire cell virus within them dormant as long as they are alive. The vampire is still within them, always within them. When they die, unless -- certain -- precautions are taken -- Masters Bruce and Richard will rise again as undead vampires to forever hunt the night. That is my duty to them -- and now yours Master Timothy -- to take the necessary steps to allow their souls to rest when we do finally lose them. But they must never know." Alfred said with finality as he reached out and took Barbara and Tim's hands in his.  
  
The weight of the task that had just been passed to him weighed heavy on Tim's shoulders. This had all been so unbelievable. But to find out this -- this last. His mind reeled at the enormity of the job -- the responsibility -- that had been entrusted to him. He also realized that they could fail. In their line of work, Bruce or Dick could die without anyone knowing in time to stop -- then what would he have to do? God help him, God help them all.  
  
"Now, lets put on our smiles and go see them in the infirmary," Alfred said wearily. Standing up, he rested his hand on Tim's shoulder. "Don't worry about it now lad, we'll do what we have to when the time comes because we must. Don't dwell on the darkness which hides within them."  
  
"And never let them know," Tim whispered as he followed Alfred and Barbara toward the infirmary.  
  
  
  
THE END ... or is it ...  
  
.  
  
.  
  
. 


End file.
